XCOM: Ascension
by Derek Konrad
Summary: When XCOM-operative Kenneth Perry witnesses the murder of the Resistance-contact who was supposed to deliver crucial information to him, he is forced to improvise to accomplish his mission. During his endeavors, he crosses paths with aged and burnt-out detective Richard Tornak, who, despite his initial mistrust, proves to be a valuable ally and asset to Perry.
1. Prologue

**I would just like to note down that this story was written for a community-competition, and during a very short time (4-5 days), so some parts might appear a bit rushed (albeit I daresay that it's not too noticeable). Also, despite the fact that this story is fully completed, I may come back for some grammar-checks in the near future.  
That's it for author's notes, really: read and enjoy!**

Prologue

 _New London, Western European Ward_

 _23:14, 3rd of October, 2034._

 _Jackal_

Soon after the natural darkness of the night descended upon the bustling city of New London, the newly introduced, temporary curfew came into effect: forcing every non-suspecting civilian to be voluntarily locked into their own homes.

Typically, these curfews lasted as long as it took for the authorities to rid the streets of the people they called 'terrorists'. In reality, however, they lasted as long as it required for all the incriminating evidence to be removed. Depending on the mood of the authorities, this could take any time between two hours to two days. And after that, life in the city-center would continue on as normal.

The events of tonight, however, haven't proceeded that far yet: this evening's firefight only broke out less than an hour ago, however, it wasn't expected to continue for much longer.

The agent codenamed 'Jackal' watched the events unfold on the streets of New London from the abandoned apartment he was currently holed up in: a studio with worn and badly damaged wallpapers, a home-repaired sofa, and an abandoned, dusty metal table. Not exactly a luxurious hotel room, but for him, it served its purpose well enough.

The gum in his mouth was already chewed to a rough, bitter tasting piece of rubber, but he didn't minded this too much: it still served its purpose as a stress relief . he was never a big fan of cigarettes anyway.

And as he stood here, chewing and calmly watching the clash on the streets, he couldn't help but wonder about how his contact could've fucked up such a basic assignment.

Because the man fighting for his life down there, stumbling from cover to cover, wasting his ammunition by pointlessly spraying bullets, was Jackal's Resistance-contact inside New London. The man who was supposed to meet him in this very room half-an-hour ago.

The man who was perhaps the last and only hope of humanity. And yet, Jackal wasn't planning on saving his life.

Despite the fact that Jackal himself was good - in fact, he was the best available for this mission - he was not invincible. If he was to go out there and fight an army, his death would've been certain - and there was no point in trading his life for a few minutes of vengeance.

If he died, everything would've been lost; but if he lived, this situation would've still retained its potential to be fixed.

And so, he waited, bitterly - waited for the inevitable death of his contact, who, by this time, ran out of ammunition, and was now making a run for it.

The man on the street dashed out of his cover, and sprinted across the town square, heading towards an abandoned car nearby. For a moment, Jackal honestly thought that his contact was going to make, but then, seemingly out of nowhere, a plasma beam penetrated his right kneecap.

A loud shriek escaped the man's mouth as he tripped and tumbled to the ground, his clothes now soaked in his own blood. With all the strength he had left in him, he attempted to crawl towards the car's inviting, cushioned seat, his movements becoming weaker and weaker with each passing second.

This continued for a few moments, until finally, another plasma beam's green tinge lighted up the night, ending the man's suffering as it came in contact with the back of his skull.

Curiously, Jackal slowly creeped closer to the window, and, turning his head right, took a look at the rooftop where the two fatal shots were fired from. However, as soon as he saw the yellow and orange tinted scales of the shooter, he immediately pulled back into the shadows, and reached into his pocket.

From there, he pulled out his SIG P320 pistol and a sat-phone with a scrambler attached. He made sure the weapon was chambered and ready to fire, then dialed a set of numbers, and hit the 'call' button.

After a few tense seconds of keeping a watchful eye on the door of the apartment, the person on the other side of the call finally picked up: – Jackal – the deep voice of a middle-aged man could be heard, the years of tactical and combat experience easily detectable from his measured tone – Status?

– He's dead – Jackal stated simply into the receiver.

– Ah, shit – the older man swore; his fingers scratching against his nape could be heard through the call – What are our options?

– There are a few ways to fix this mess... – but before he could continue, a set of shadows marched by in front of the apartment's door, painting dark, menacing shadows across the wooden floor.

Jackal raised his pistol with one hand, the sights steadily aimed at the centre-point of the door. For a few seconds, he waited for the door to be kicked in, and for the authorities to charge in with their weapons blazing.

In the best case scenario, he would've had time to score two headshots before being taken down by the magnetically-accelerated rounds. While bleeding on the floor, he may have had time for another one.

Going out with three kills - not the worst way to die while fighting. If it had to be today, he was ready.

Nonetheless, despite his expectations, nobody barged through the door with the urge to kill him: the shadows walked past, and continued their march down the corridor. Jackal let out a deep sigh of relief, lowered his pistol, and returned to the middle-aged man, who, for about the third time now, was continually asking if he was still there.

– I am. A few of them walked past the door, I was afraid that I may have been compromised – he explained – As I was saying... There are a few options that are still available for us.

– Like what? – the older man asked impatiently.

– It all depends on what they do with the body – Jackal listed – If they don't try any of their tricks this time, I could recover the package directly from his body in the morgue he might be taken to – he paused for a second – However, if they use him to frame a suspected Resistance-member, which is more likely...

– You would have no chance of recovering the package from an evidence storage – the man finished his sentence, then fell silent.

Jackal thought for a second himself, then inquired: – Do we have a mole inside the local civilian police who could provide assistance?

– No one in New London, or the nearby cities – the man answered bitterly – I'm afraid we may be on our own this time. In normal circumstances, I would just simply pull you out, but we both know that these are not normal circumstances. _Everything_ depends on that package.

– I understand – Jackal rubbed his eyes with an open palm. He has worked three weeks on establishing contact and setting up a meeting with the man that now lay dead on the streets outside. He was beginning to grow tired of this single operation, but the potential outcome always kept him motivated to soldier on towards the mission's goal – What are my new orders?

The middle-aged man didn't respond straight away, which could've led anyone to believe that he was ready to scrap the entire operation - and that would've resulted in the eventual, but nevertheless permanent enslavement of humanity.

But Jackal knew him better than that: if there was anything the man on the other side of the receiver would _never_ give up on, it was the chance to liberate Earth from those that conquered her so many years ago.

– How you proceed from this point on is entirely up to your discretion, but do follow standard protocols! – the man finally spoke.

Standard protocols, in this case, referred to two main rules: avoid contact unless it is absolutely necessary, and _never_ shoot or kill any civilians, even if they alert the authorities to your presence. Jackal perfectly understood these operational conditions, and managed to keep to every single one of them so far.

– Other than that, you are granted full operational discretion. Good luck. Central out – the middle-aged man concluded the conversation, then ended the call.

– Understood – Jackal nodded, although only to himself.

Sighing, he broke the sat-phone in half, and hid it in the darkest corner of the apartment. After that, he put the P320 into the holster hidden under his coat, closed the curtains, quietly flipped the table in its, and put the beaten-up sofa in front of the door.

Then, he took out a compact, rolled up mat from his backpack, spread it out across the floor, and, behind the cover and concealment of the table, laid down on it in a position he found comfortable.

He was going to need all the minutes of rest he could possibly get: the next few days, without a doubt, will most likely be extremely difficult to live through.


	2. Murder in Oldtown

Murder in Oldtown

 _New London, Western European Ward_

 _8:27, 7th of October, 2034._

 _Richard Tornak_

Fridays, he hated the least, due to the reason that it was his last day at work before rotations, which would give him Saturdays, Sundays, and Mondays off of duty. And even though those precious three days only gave him just enough time to pull himself together again, he never complained about it: his salary was more than enough to afford everything he desired, next to covering his high-end apartment and weekly food.

Detective Sergeant Richard Tornak groaned as his alarm clock produced an a sharp, ear-piercing shriek, violently yanking him away from his peaceful dreams. Still half-asleep, he weakly reached over to the household appliance, and, with all his available strength, hit the button on its top, ending the loud racket for this morning.

Sitting up, a sharp pain shot across his skull, forcing him to instinctively put pressure on the pain with his hands.

– Ah, bloody hell... – he scratched at the partially-healed scar at the back of his head, flinching as he touched the sensitive skin.

Despite the fact that the aliens' technology was virtually flawless, some minor malfunctions and issues always seemed to arise every now and then: in Tornak's case, it was the implant in his brain, the civilian version of the standard-issue ADVENT brain-chip.

For civilians, these chips didn't serve as much purpose as they did for the peacekeepers of the Administration; they were essentially just free tickets into the gene-therapy clinics - small hospitals that remedied each and every illness known (and not known) to humanity - granted discounts at stores, and were served as perfect alternatives for identification and documents.

Nevertheless, the main reason one would have this chip implanted was to be granted full immunity against any disease.

Now, Tornak's personal chip seemed to have malfunctioned after he was caught in the blast of an EMP-bomb booby-trapped on a body inside one of the apartments he was tasked to investigate as a detective. For a few days, nothing unusual occured, but two days ago, Tornak experienced blurs in his vision, dizziness, nausea, and temporary blackouts.

This kept worsening until one time he eventually collapsed on the street, and fell unconscious. He was woken up in a nearby clinic, where he was informed that his damaged chip had to be removed, otherwise it would've eventually fried his brain, damaging his neural connections for the rest of his life.

When he asked for a replacement, Tornak was told that he would have to wait a week or two before he could undergo surgery again, as the process was, indeed, rather intrusive, and imposed extreme risks if done repeatedly between short periods of time.

And this was what the detective was feeling at this moment - the aftermath of the removal procedure, sometimes still striking into his skull like a lightning into an exposed tree in the middle of a storm. Still, he was warned about these periodical headaches back at the clinic, so it wasn't like he had anything to be overly surprised about.

Just a few more days until he could get his replacement chip: and a few shots of pain through his skull weren't going to stop that from happening.

As the pain now began to die down, Tornak began his daily routine: he hastily spread some butter on two slices of bread, threw them in the microwave. While he waited for the timer to count down, he walked over to his closet, picked out one from his collection of old, pre-unification suits, and a matching tie. By the time he finished his unusually precise buttoning procedure, he heard three high-pitched _beeps_ coming from his kitchen: the sound of cheap, lazily microwaved food. _Tornak's favorite_.

Halfway through what he prefered to call his breakfast-routine - which meant standing in front of his window and carefully observing the quiet and abandoned street outside - his phone began to vibrate in his suit's inner-pocket.

He nonchalantly dropped the leftover half-slice of bread on his kitchen table, then slowly pulled out the translucent, solid piece of glass cuboid: the holographic display of the phone identified the caller as 'P. Monroe' - Tornak's partner.

– Morning, Pete – he answered the call in his usual, half-bored, half-casual tone – What's up?

– The Commissioner General ordered me to tell you to not come into the station right away – the man said without even acknowledging Tornak's words – Some nut-job terrorist massacred a family in oldtown - you know, near the ruins of Westminster. That's our new case. I'll meet you on the spot – and, without waiting for any form of response, Monroe ended the call.

Many people would've found this the rock-bottom of incivility, but Tornak knew his detective-partner too long to have been surprised by this behavior - he was well aware that Monroe talked and acted like this every time, _and_ with everyone.

He was one socially dysfunctional bastard whose stone-cold face may have twitched a little bit on the best day of his life; but he might just have been the best detective Tornak ever worked with in his entire career.

Monroe was emotionless and indifferent towards the 99% of people, but this was balanced out by his rational, and precisely calculating personality: the man was unbearable from a human standpoint, but at least he was exceptionally skilled at his job.

Slipping the phone back under his suit, Tornak sighed, bit into, then forcefully swallowed the remaining dry, almost tasteless slice of bread. He took a quick detour back to his bedroom, from where he picked up his service pistol - an old Glock 22, which was more of a peashooter, when compared to a regular ADVENT peacekeeper's weaponry - and the temporal identification paperwork the clinic provided to him.

"Come on Richard! Just another day at the office...", he thought, then stepped out the front door, which then loudly slammed behind him.

 _Oldtown, New London, Western European Ward_

 _9:14, 7th of October, 2034._

 _Richard Tornak_

 _Approximately 40 minutes later..._

– Mor balaten! – the ADVENT peacekeeper raised his matte-black magnetic rifle, holding its barrel only a few centimeters away from Tornak's forehead.

The detective himself had no idea what the trooper was saying, a fact that even he was surprised and clueless about. Confused and somewhat panicked in the same time, he attempted to explain his standpoint, hoping that the peacekeeper would at least understand what Richard was saying.

– I, uh... _I'm Detective Richard Tornak_ – he spoke slowly and with emphasis on his words, just as if he was talking to a half-deaf old man – _I'm here to investigate the murder that occurred inside this house..._ – he continued, but the trooper simply shook his head, and, with one of his hands, gestured to Tornak to hand something over.

– I... I don't think I understand... – Richard replied helplessly, but this didn't make the peacekeeper budge from his position.

– Merai de borte lati! – the trooper concluded this so-called conversation, and began to approach Tornak with one arm held up, telling the detective to back off, and leave the area.

– Stop! Wait for a damned second already... – a familiar voice sounded behind Richard's back, and as he turned to investigate, he spotted his partner, Peter Monroe, hurrying towards him and the trooper with urgent steps.

– Ad ter balaten? – the ADVENT trooper demanded from the approaching person.

And Monroe, as if he understood what the peacekeeper was saying, replied in a casual fashion: – Detective Monroe, just do your scan already... – Pete said impatiently, to which the trooper reacted by pulling out a small handheld-device.

The peacekeeper then held the device in front of Monroe, from which a wide, thin beam of red light came out, and spread across the man's face. For the duration of this process, Pete stayed as still as humanly possible, and waited for it to be finished.

A few seconds later, the light of the beam changed to green - which meant that Monroe had authorization to enter the building - and so the trooper put the device back into one of the pockets of his tactical vest.

– Adere virat – the peacekeeper gestured to Pete with his rifle, but the man wasn't ready step inside just yet.

– Hold on, I have a plus one! – Monroe turned to Tornak, who just stood there, baffled and not having a single clue about what he should be doing.

– Wait, you can understand what this guy is saying? – Richard blinked in disbelief.

– Of course I do – Pete shrugged – And so would you, only your chip is proudly serving its new role as a piece of garbage in some landfill somewhere up North – he said, but didn't waited too long for a reaction – Just show him your papers, mate...

– Oh. I see – Tornak pulled out the papers the clinic sent him from the underside of his suit, and handed them over to the trooper.

The latter kept silently staring at the documents for a couple of seconds, then, as if he was both satisfied and confused, handed them back to Richard, and pointed towards the entrance of the house.

– Finally... – Monroe exclaimed, then walked past the ADVENT trooper, brushing past his shoulder. Tornak was quick to follow, but kept a respectable distance from his partner.

His mind was now racing with the thoughts of what Pete told him: that he was unable to understand whatever language it was the ADVENT peacekeeper was speaking _without_ a brain-chip...

"Huh. Never heard that one before...", he thought to himself, but returned to reality as soon as Monroe tapped his shoulder in a somewhat aggressive manner.

– Come on mate, I have a ton of paperwork back at the station, I don't want to spend the whole bloody day on this crime-scene! – Pete spoke quickly and in a frustrated manner as he lightly shoved Tornak into a dimly-lit room.

With his eyes still used to the light of the outside world, Richard couldn't see much, but he immediately recognized the putrid stench he came across all too many times during his years at this work: the smell of death.

And that's how bad it was - he didn't even require his vision to realize that he was in an area filled with bodies that, although barely, but already began to slowly decompose.

 _He spent too many years doing this job. Soon, it would be time for a change in his life_.

As his eyes now adjusted to the darkness, Tornak could at least partially make out the corpses present in the room.

A dark-haired man, most likely in his forties, a massive gun-shot wound gaping in the middle of his chest, his brown eyes blankly staring at his own feet, his grey, striped pajama-shirt painted dark-red by his own blood; a brunette woman, possibly around twenty, maybe twenty-two, half of her head missing, most likely due to some high-caliber round fired from a ballistic weapon; and next to her was another man, blonde, maybe thirty-five - but he seemed different for some reason...

Tornak dug up a compact flashlight from one of his suit pockets, then crouched down and leaned closer to the blonde man's motionless body, closely examining the wounds around the man's right knee, and disfigured skull.

Whatever happened to this specific man, it was not caused by the conventional bullets the resistance-terrorists liked to use...

– I just checked the evidence the forensics lads left for us in the kitchen... – Monroe leaned into the door-frame of the dark room – Mainly casings used by the usual cells around here, a bloody knife, and a death-threat aimed at those two, identified as Jacob Kel and Daisy Witborough – he pointed at the corpses of the dark-haired man, and the brunette woman – And my guess is that the third guy is the perpetrator - only his little 'extortion-mission' didn't go as well as expected, and he was stabbed to death by Mr. Kel here – Pete crossed his arms, seemingly done for the day.

– It's possible... – Tornak began, but was cut short by Monroe, who was apparently very eager to finally get through the paperwork he mentioned earlier.

– Well, this is exactly what I thought – Pete sighed, and began to tap with his right foot – Just another attack by those assholes living out in the woods. Alright, let's pack up the evidence, and hand the scene over to the cleaners... – Monroe turned, then began to slowly walk away.

But something kept troubling Tornak's mind about the third man's wounds - it was like a blast from the past, as if he had seen it somewhere before... The burned, melted flesh seemed awfully familiar... Where the hell did he see this previously?

And then, out of nowhere, the sudden realization hit him - as if a divine revelation had just unveiled itself in front of his mind's eye.

Several years ago, back when Tornak was still just a recruit at the Regional Police Force, there was an enormous skirmish in the heart of New London between the forces of ADVENT, and the terrorists from the resistance. For a short while, it seemed as if the insurgents were going to overrun the city, but the Administration and the aliens were quick to respond, their iron fist crashing down on the terrorists like a hammer on glass. However, this victory left a great number of bodies piled up on the streets - and someone had to remove them.

After this fighting died down, Richard - the 'FNG' back then - was assigned to aid the cleaning-crews that were tasked to move all the corpses from the streets. It was during this duty where Tornak saw similar wounds - and they weren't caused by the old, ballistic weapons the resistance used. No; these wounds were inflicted by plasma weaponry.

 _Something that only the aliens used_.

– Hey, Pete! Could you come over here for a minute? – Richard called out without turning around.

He then put on his rubber gloves, and began to examine the dead man's pockets, hoping to find something that may have explained why a homicide-victim seemed to have died from being shot by plasma weapons.

When his hands reached the right pocket of the man's leather jacket, Tornak felt something hard under the surface of the clothing. Lifting up the jacket and reaching inside the pocket, his hands crashed against a smooth, solid surface of an unknown object. Getting a grip on the item, Richard slowly pulled it out, only to reveal it to be a tablet-shaped device.

– Pete! – Tornak shouted again, looking over his shoulder to see if his partner was coming or not – Oh, Monroe, you good-for-nothing, lazy old bastard... – he aggressively tore the rubber gloves off of his hands, then looked for a way to activate the device.

He searched for any buttons around the sides of the tablet, but, surprisingly, there were none to be found. Puzzled, Richard began to tap his fingers on the screen in thought, looking for a way in his mind to activate the unfamiliar device.

To his surprise, his fingers tapping away on the screen was all the tablet required to turn itself on: as the display lighted up, Tornak was presented with the well-known logo of the ADVENT Administration, which kept continuously spinning around as the device slowly loaded its contents.

By this time, Richard knew that this wasn't a regular tablet he was holding in his hands: this here was an ADVENT datapad - a highly sophisticated information storage device, designed to be only accessible with the correct biometric-key. Most of time, this would have been a simple, individual fingerprint.

However, as Tornak was now inspecting this datapad, he quickly realized that the biometric security on it seemed to be broken; and he knew this because, instead of asking for a fingerprint or authentication, the datapad simply gave him a welcome message, then presented a set of files and folders, all labeled with names of different people and organizations.

Out of pure curiosity, Richard tapped on the folder titled 'Projects and Operations': inside were documents titled _Project Avis_ , _Project Leviathan_ , _Project Avatar_...

"What the hell is all this?", Tornak thought as his natural inquisitiveness kept pushing him farther and farther. Backing out from this folder, he next opened a collection of files titled 'Targets and Organizations': this one contained names like _XCOM_ , and _Taskforce 48_ \- groups unknown to Richard. However, there was one eerie title for one of these files that caught his eyes: _Civilian Targets for Abduction and Processing_.

As he read this, his heart skipped a beat, and a cold feeling of dread began to crawl up his spine. With his now shaking hands, he was about to peek inside the file, but he then heard the sound of approaching footsteps behind him.

– I was held up outside, what do you want? – Monroe's bored voice froze him in place, which his partner noticed immediately – Is there a problem? You look like you saw a ghost, mate... – Pete raised an eyebrow, but no real emotion was visible on his face.

– I... – Tornak hesitated, the thought of hiding the tablet from his partner being the first way of action that occurred to him. With this, he probably surprised _himself_ the most.

– Yeah? I'm listening – Monroe narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

– I just... found this datapad on one of the victims here. The one with the irregular wounds. It looks like the ones issued to ADVENT. Not that I saw those that many times before, but... – Richard began to explain a bit too hastily, as if he was trying to talk his way out of the situation.

Once again, his partner was quick to notice this, and cut him off before he could continue: – Did you read anything on it? – Monroe's face fell strangely motionless as he stated the question.

– Have I read anything on it? – Richard repeated after a few moments of stuttering, pretending to be confused about his partner's question.

– That's what I asked, isn't it? Did you read it, or not? – Pete demanded an answer with a slightly more hostile tone this time.

– Of course not – Richard lied with a straight face, not allowing any involuntary twitches or movements to betray him – You know me, Pete. Why would I tamper with the evidence? – he asked, truly hoping that his words were convincing enough to fool his partner.

For a while, Monroe just kept staring at Tornak, his eyes narrowed, an odd flame of doubt burning inside them. Richard never saw his partner this uptight, not even in the rare situations where they would come under fire by terrorist-elements. But instead of asking Pete about his bizarrely suspicious behavior, he just simply went along with the other detective's game, and waited until that was too bored to continue.

And, just as expected, Monroe, in less than a minute, shook his head and sighed: – Alright then. Just make sure you hand it in to the evidence-locker back at the station. Now, let's clear out – Pete pointed behind his back as his face returned to its usual, bitter and bored expression – Oh, and by the way, there is an eyewitness outside, waiting to speak to you – he added, then walked off once again.

Tornak waited until the sounds of his partner's footsteps couldn't be heard anymore, then looked over his shoulder, and made sure that no one else was watching behind him.

Once he made sure he was completely alone, Richard quickly slid the datapad into one of his suit's more hidden pockets, then stood up, put away his flashlight, and walked out of the room, as if nothing unusual would've happened.

 _It was all too clear that Tornak had no idea what he was about to be involved in_.


	3. The Jackal and The Hound

The Jackal and The Hound

 _New London, Western European Ward_

 _10:26, 7th of October, 2034._

 _Richard Tornak_

As soon as he set foot outside of the building, the unmistakable clash of thunder sounded in the distance, and a rain consisting of cold, heavy raindrops began to fall immediately after, forcing Detective Tornak to pull out a flat cap from one of his pockets.

Advanced technology or not, the aliens couldn't control the weather; therefore, it didn't matter how much of a dreamlike-utopia the world they created was, the citizens still had to tolerate the common rain-clouds of this ward.

Nevertheless, most civilians hardly noticed the rain, given that they spent most of their times in front of their holovision, watching the Global ADVENT News Broadcast, or in a half-conscious state while they were entertained by what people commonly referred to as the 'smile-fog', a vapor-based device created by the aliens that caused euphoria in those who breathed in the gas it produced.

Luckily, Tornak wasn't one of those people who prefered to waste most of their days like this.

Once he walked past his favorite ADVENT peacekeeper, Richard planned to glance around in the hope of finding the eyewitness Monroe referred to - and this shouldn't have proved to be a difficult task, given that most personnel present in his immediate vicinity were all troopers in dark armour and helmets. A civilian was going to stick out like a sore thumb.

However, when he turned his head only slightly to the right, there stood a man, who, without any doubt, was the person he was about to search for.

– Detective Tornak? – the man asked in what sounded like an American accent as he extended his hand for Richard.

He appeared to be around his mid-thirties, however, his face seemed significantly older, weathered with a variety of both positive and negative experiences. Still, despite his somewhat rough features, the man's light-green eyes still shone with the lights of great determination.

– Yes. I assume you are the eyewitness my partner mentioned? – Richard shook his hand, then tipped his flat cap. During the few seconds he spent with pronouncing his question, Tornak took another look at the man.

He was dressed in rather old-fashioned clothes, somewhat similarly to the detective: his dark-blue navy sweater was covered by a worn trench coat, and wrapped around his neck was a similarly-coloured scarf - a perfect combination for the cold weather of this ward.

The only pieces of clothing that stood out to Richard, however, were the man's shoes and trousers: heavily-used and home-repaired combat boots with camouflaged cargo trousers.

And albeit this seemed somewhat suspicious to Tornak, he wasn't going to arrest a random civilian in the middle of the city center _only_ because his dressing-style appeared... _unusual_.

– Kenneth Perry – the man nodded to Richard as they shook each others' hands – Good to finally meet you, Detective.

– What do you mean, "finally"? – Tornak raised an eyebrow questioningly.

To this, after a short pause, the man known as 'Kenneth Perry' simply replied: – All I meant is that those guys over there... – he pointed at the two ADVENT troopers that were patrolling the perimeter of the crime-scene – Well, let's just say they weren't too eager to let me talk to you.

– And what do you think, why was that? – Tornak asked with a sarcastic remark as he once again inspected the eyewitness' atypical clothes.

The man, as a reaction, quietly laughed at this remark, and pretended that he didn't took the detective's statement to be sarcastic – I don't know, you're the one who works with them... – he added with a dishonest smile, then waited for Richard to take his turn in the conversation.

– Aha, right... – the detective crossed his arms – So, what did you want to say, mate? Are you in the possession of any information that would incriminate someone other than the resistance-terrorists? – he asked, and, while waiting for the answer, took out his notebook.

Perry casually slid his hands into his coat's pockets, and began to speak: – Well, first of all...

But he was unable to finish, as, barely a block away from where they were standing, an enormous explosion shook the ground, painting the grey, cloudy sky with orange flames, and menacingly black smoke.

The screams of civilians and cries for help could be heard from even this distance, and Tornak could have sworn that he felt the shockwave hit him, almost pushing him off of his feet. And now, as he kept staring at the explosion in instinctive fear, eyes wide and unable to turn away, he felt someone grabbing his shoulder and pushing him down to the ground.

Once he hit the dirt, he reflexively pushed the hand away from his shoulder, then turned towards the direction he thought it reached out from: however, it didn't surprised him at all when he saw Perry next to him, who, by this time, was also lying prone on the ground.

What _did_ catch Tornak off-guard though was that the man next to him was desperately trying to push something into his hands: prying Richard's fingers open, Perry forced what felt like a piece of paper between his digits, only to close those fingers back on it once he was absolutely sure that the detective had a firm grip on the item.

Nonetheless, as soon as Tornak realised what the man was doing, he rolled to the right, away from Perry, then, with a blindingly fast movement, unholstered his Glock 22, and aimed it right at the middle of his witness' forehead.

– What the hell do you think you're doing?! – he shook the piece of paper off of his hand, as if it was some type of repulsive insect – That counts as assaulting a police officer, do you realize that? And what is that bloody note suppossed to be? – he nodded towards the aforementioned paper, not seeing the small chaos that was happening around them.

As the emergency-sirens went off, a greater number of ADVENT troopers flooded the streets, escorting panicked civilians back to their homes, searching everything for the terrorists who, in all likelihood, were the ones responsible for this explosion. It was without a doubt, the well-known curfew-protocol was about to take effect once again.

The whole city of New London was now on high-alert, and in the middle of all this sat Tornak and Perry, the latter staring down the barrel of the former's handgun.

– Answer me, you bastard! – Richard shouted, his words heavily influenced by his still present, natural fear. This feeling also affected his hands, which were now shaking from the stressful state he was currently in.

– Just read it; then you will know what to do! – Perry winked almost unnoticeably, stood up by pushing himself up from the ground, and, before the detective could've reacted, he began to walk away from him in a rather hurried manner.

– Hey! Stop right there! – Tornak shouted, then struggled to his feet as well, not taking his pistol and eyes off of Perry for a moment – I said _stop_! Or I _will_ shoot!

Perry turned around, but didn't stop moving away from Richard: – Shooting a civilian who is only trying to reach the safety of his home during a terrorist-attack? – he grinned triumphantly as he nonchalantly held his hands up in front of his chest – That wouldn't paint you in a very good light, now, would it, Detective? – and, with this, he turned his back again, and sped up to a running pace. However, as a final goodbye, he glanced over his shoulder for a final time, and yelled to Tornak: – We will meet again soon!

Richard, his hands now shaking even harder from anger and frustration, kept the Glock's sights on Perry for a while longer, extremely tempted to just put a bullet in the maniac.

But then again, the man spoke the truth: shooting a civilian during such an attack? ADVENT would take Richard to be a terrorist-supporter without a second thought. And then, his career, his whole life... All of it would end at that point. He would be thrown in a dark prison-cell for the rest of his remaining years, never to see the light of the Sun again...

– Shit! – Richard shouted without any regard for those who may have ran past him at this point, and lowered his weapon, quietly swearing for a few more seconds.

As he scanned the street, he realized that there was no other living soul around him - save for a few ADVENT soldiers that were sprinting down the other side of the road, barking words to each other in that strange language Tornak still couldn't understand.

Holstering his weapon and picking up the flat cap that fell off of his head sometime during the minutes he spent on the ground, Richard was about to obey the emergency-sirens, ready to make a run for his home, hoping to not run into any firefights on the way.

Nevertheless, before moving an inch, his eyes caught something on the ground: a small piece of paper with something written on it in printed letters.

 _Perry's note_.

Richard kept staring at the paper for a few more seconds, only to question his own actions: "What the hell are you doing?", he thought, "Are you seriously considering to listen to some lunatic's words?".

Tornak kept standing there for another half of a minute, a great dilemma standing in his way. Why would he pick up that note in the first place?

But then again, what could he lose by picking it up?

– Ah, fuck it! – he muttered quietly, reached down for the note, and began to run back to his apartment.

In less than thirty minutes, he was standing inside the walls of his house, which, to a certain extent, he considered the safest place on Earth right now.

Short of breath and panting from all the running, Tornak took a few minutes to allow his heartbeat to return itself to normal, then stepped inside his kitchen, and filled a glass to the brim with the ice-cold water stashed inside his fridge.

He kept gulping until he swallowed every last cold drop, then placed the cup on the counter, hitting the glass a bit too hard against the solid surface - which resulted in a slight crack on the object.

Not even noticing this, Richard dug up two more slices of bread from the depths of a cupboard, and, without even spreading a minimal amount of butter on them, threw the two slices in the microwave, and set the timer to the usual amount.

Falling down onto the kitchen chair, Tornak unfolded the small, slightly wet piece of paper on the table in front of him, and read the somewhat blurred words written on it.

It required multiple _beeps_ from the microwave to snap him out of his thoughts, as the information this small piece of paper held required him to think his next step through _truly_ carefully.

What this 'Perry' asked of him was, at this moment, _extremely_ dangerous and risky - and still, Richard's curiosity and previous encounter with the ADVENT datapad drove him to, at least, partially trust the man he encountered earlier.

He was going to follow his instructions when the time came, but for now...

For now, he was hoping to put some butter on those two slices of bread in the microwave - something he _clearly_ forgot to accomplish earlier.

 _Ascension Square, New London, Western European Ward_

 _0:35, 8th of October, 2034._

 _Richard Tornak_

Richard pulled his jacket's hood further down on his face, then tried to blend more into the shadows of the dark backstreet that neighboured the very center and heart of the city - Ascension Square.

The rain kept falling through the entire day, and, by this time, became even more fiercer than it originally was in the morning; this reduced the general visibility to almost zero, which, at least, gave an easier time for Tornak as he snuck past the ADVENT soldiers patrolling during the curfew.

He kept nervously tapping with his right foot in impatience, constantly scanning around for the man he was suppossed to meet with - but, for the past fifteen minutes, the only people he saw passing through the square were the previously mentioned patrols, and, occasionally, a few homeless civilians, searching for a shelter to spend night at.

And as he kept waiting for the person mentioned in the message to arrive, a feeling of doubt hit him in the gut, which forced his hand to reach into his pocket, take out the well-known piece of paper Perry left him, and read its words for about the hundredth time that night:

 _Detective Tornak, I wish there was an easier way for me to talk to you, but I'm afraid that due to the current circumstances of our world, this is my only available option. My sources claim that you retrieved a datapad from the crime-scene you visited today - if this is true, then we have to meet. The fate of humanity might depend on that datapad. Meet me at Ascension just past midnight this evening -_ _I will be signalling you with a blue laser-pointer. C_ _ome alone, and make sure you are not followed!_ _If you attempt to cross me, or pull me into an ambush, make no mistake, you will be the first to drop dead!_

 _Looking forward to meeting you tonight - hopefully, in peace._

 _Jackal_

The word "Ascension" clearly referred to Ascension Square - Tornak had no doubt about that. But if this was the right place, _and_ the right time, then where the hell was this 'Jackal'? Was he delayed by something, or was he caught by the patrols?

Or, once again, was Perry just an insane bystander who managed to fool Richard into sneaking out on the night of a curfew? Well, by this time, he began to think that the latter was probably the exact reason of why the man called 'Jackal' hasn't appeared yet.

– I don't have time for this... – Tornak shook his head angrily, and was about to turn his back on the square when, from the corner of his eyes, he spotted something that caused him to skip a breath.

Barely a few centimeters from his feet, there was a tiny, but surprisingly bright and radiant blue light: the unmistakable beam of a laser pointer.

Looking up in search of its origin-point, Richard's eyes eventually settled on the immense golden statue in the middle of the square - the figure of an Elder. Sitting at its bottom pedestal was a man in a heavy raincoat, who now waved for Tornak to hurry over there.

As he cautiously approached the person at the bottom of the statue, Richard slowly reached under his coat, unbuckled his pistol's holster, and took a tight grip on the weapon: he may have attended this meeting without reporting it to ADVENT, but he wasn't going to leave himself unprotected.

Now, as he was barely ten meters away from the mysterious man, Richard took a deep breath, and shouted over the roar of the heavy rain: – Who are you?

As soon as Tornak stated his questions, the man jumped off of the pedestal, and began to walk towards the detective.

– The answer to that question is quite simple! – he answered over the sound of the rain, his voice calm and self-confident, and, somehow, strangely familiar as well – We've already met once before – he stepped forward, the shadow of his hood hiding his face from Richard's eyes.

– What is that supposed to mean? – Tornak assessed the man's stance carefully, his right hand still firm on his pistol's grip.

– Oh, come on, Detective! – the person laughed, and pushed the hood off of his head – I took your skills to be better than that; _I am_ Jackal.

Richard's heart, for the third time that night, skipped a beat as the man revealed himself to be none other than...

– Perry, you son of a bitch! – Tornak backed away, pulled out his Glock 22, and pointed it at the man's chest – What do you want from me?

– Just that datapad you took from the body at the crime-scene in Oldtown – Jackal stated simply, then, as he glanced at the weapon aimed at him, added in a nonchalant noise – Now put that down before one of the three snipers behind my back take your head off.

– What snipers? – Richard kept his arms raised, then swiftly scanned the hardly visible square behind Perry, failing to conceal his alarm and fear of being shot – I don't see any around here!

– You can't see them, but they can see _you_! – Jackal shrugged, and afterwards, in a slightly more demanding manner, extended his an open hand – Now hand over that datapad!

Tornak took a breath, and thought about a response to Perry's words; however, no words were able to leave his mouth. He was too indecisive in this matter, and had no idea what to do - make a break for it and alert a nearby patrol-group, or hand over the tablet and forget about this? The obedient citizen in him kept urging him to alert the authorities, while his detective-side insisted that there was something more to this datapad - he saw that with his own eyes this morning.

And so, in the middle of this dilemma, Richard posed the question to Perry: – Who are you working with? The Resistance? Some other group living out in the forests?

Jackal smiled and shook his head: – The Resistance, in a way; but the organization I'm working for prefers to stay hidden and discrete. For now, that is – he paused for a few seconds, but seeing that the detective still required some more convincing to make a decision, he continued – Listen, you're a smart detective: you know just as well as I do that _something_ was clearly odd at the crime-scene you were sent to investigate. Plasma-burns on a man whose suppossed cause of death were multiple stab wounds? Come on, Tornak! Think about this rationaly!

– You know I could just shoot you where you stand, right? – Richard asked tensely, tightening his grip on his pistol – Suspicious circumstances or not, you are still just a terrorist to me!

– Fine, go ahead! – Jackal surrendered himself by spreading his arms out – Shoot me now and return that datapad to ADVENT! Do it, and see what will happen in two years!

Richard took his finger off of the trigger, and tapped it on the frame of the Glock 22 a couple of times; after this, he ultimately lowered his weapon, and, for the first time that night, turned his gaze away from Perry.

The rain continued to pour down from the night sky, and Tornak kept searching for the logical answer in his mind. What should he do? The Administration's rules clearly stated that the sighting of any insurgents - such as Perry - should be immediately reported to the nearest ADVENT peacekeeper.

But then again, the words he saw on that datapad were unmistakable: and this was the point that dictated Richard's next action.

– Alright, mate – he reached under his coat, took out the desired tablet, and held it out towards Perry – Here's your datapad.

– Thanks, pal; you just saved humanity – Jackal took the device, and took a step back – You may leave now, if you wish.

– Not yet – Richard shook his head, then holstered his pistol. He was honestly amazed that Perry didn't shoot him point-blank as soon as he held the datapad in his hands. He expected worse from a terrorist...

– Why? Do you want something from me? – Jackal furrowed his brows questioningly – If you want a payment for this, I don't have any credits...

– No – Tornak declared in a strict voice – I want you to explain to me what the hell is on that datapad.

– Well, that should be easy enough! – Jackal said somewhat happily, and tapped the screen of the datapad with a finger – Mainly information about the Resistance, reports of missing civilians, and the location of... – he listed, but trailed off before he could finish his sentence. His face now slowly shifted, a dark shadow falling on it as his expressions, little by little, became anxious, and borderline frightened.

– Is something wrong...? – Richard inquired.

– Did you happen to touch the screen of this datapad when you first found it? – Jackal suddenly glanced up, his eyes closely fixated at the detective's face.

– Yes... – Tornak answered unsurely – I somehow managed to gain access to some of the files on there. Is that a problem?

– Is it a problem? – Jackal asked back, his tone now resembling that of a frustrated man – Of course it's a problem! – but seeing that the detective was clearly clueless about why this was such an issue, the agent went ahead and explain: – My contact, the dead man you retrieved this datapad from, somehow managed to reset the security-measures of this device: this means that the first person who put his finger on its screen would be granted full access to it. And since you appear to be the one who did this first, this datapad will only react to your fingerprints!

– So, what does that require from me? – Tornak narrowed his eyes, afraid of already knowing the answer.

Jackal sighed, then responded – You will have to come with me to my base of operations, so that we can retrieve the data from this tablet locally.

– B-But... – suttered the detective – Won't ADVENT track us down?

– Not with your brain-chip out of commission – Perry said, and pocketed the datapad in the underside of his jacket – However, we will have to move quickly... – he leaned closer to Tornak.

Nonetheless, as the two men were about to leave, a bright floodlight - even brighter than that of the laser-pointer Perry used earlier - shone into their faces, blinding them for a few short seconds. Shortly after this abrupt flash of light, a voice, distorted by a loudspeaker, began to shout them orders in the same, incomprehensible language Tornak encountered this morning.

As his eyes adjusted to the intense light, Richard was able to make out the shapes of multiple ADVENT soldiers approaching them, armed to the teeth with their iconic magnetic rifles.

Behind them parked three vehicles, two of which resembled troop-transports, and one that Tornak instantly recognized from his years of serving as a detective: a prison-van, its back-doors wide open, waiting for Perry and him to be violently thrown inside it.

They were surrounded, and fighting seemed to be their worst, but only option: surrendering would've put them in jail for the rest of their lives, and there was no escaping from there...

Caught in the act, outmanned and outgunned... Richard had no idea how he was going to escape from this situation.


	4. The Flight

The Flight

 _Ascension Square, New London, Western European Ward_

 _1:03, 8th of October, 2034._

 _Richard Tornak_

His coat turned from mostly dry to soaking wet during the thirty minutes he spent directly under the heavy raindrops of tonight's storm; this added that unmistakable, awful weight to his clothes, burdening him down even more than he already was at the present situation.

Richard watched motionlessly as a dozen ADVENT troopers approached his and Perry's near vicinity, some of them already reaching for the zip-ties hanging from their tactical belts.

– What are we going to do now? – Tornak muttered to the man standing next to him, just loud enough to be heard by him.

But Jackal didn't respond to his question in any way - instead, he kept still his hands held up in surrender.

"So the professional Resistance-agent gives up just like this...", Richard thought bitterly as he also slowly reached for the skies. "Well, then I guess this is the end of the line...", he smiled sadly, hoping that his position and past service as a detective allow him to stay out of prison...

However, as Tornak's line of thought reached its end, he felt as if something had punched him on the throat, forcing him to violently cough for a few seconds.

First, he took this to be the effects of some kind of colourless gas grenade, but as he felt something tightening around his throat, and his body slowly being pulled backwards, a sudden realization hit Richard: Perry just wrapped an arm around his neck, and was now forcing him to walk in reverse, towards the pedestal of the Elder's statue.

– What the hell are you doing? – Tornak demanded in a loud voice, borderline choking from the tight hold of Jackal's arm. By this time, he could also feel something cold and solid pressing against his temple: without a doubt, his captor was holding a gun to his head.

– Shut it, or I swear I'll blow your brains out! – Jackal pushed the metal barrel harder against Richard's head, causing the man to flinch in the process.

– Screw you, you... rebel piece of shit! I knew I shouldn't have trusted you! – Tornak hissed furiously, the idea of reaching for his own pistol constantly flashing in front of his eyes.

– Don't get too much into it, Detective... – Jackal whispered quietly, barely moving his lips so that the ADVENT soldiers surrounding them wouldn't become suspicious – I hope you know that I'm only doing this to create a temporary distraction... – he heard Richard sigh and then take a deep breath to respond; however, he never did, as Perry was quick to stop him by briefly tightening the hold of his arm around the detective's neck – No, don't speak, just follow my instructions. I can get us out from here, but you will need to do _precisely_ as I say! – he kept a short pause as he gave Tornak some time to process his words – There is a flashbang in the bottom right pocket of my trench coat. Now, in a few seconds, I will start counting down from five; when I reach four, you will pull the pin out, but hold the lever down. When I reach three, you will let go of that lever. Then, in the _exact_ moment I pronounce the first few letters of the word 'two', you will throw that thing in front of us, hit the dirt, and cover your eyes in the best possible way you can. If you got all that, move your right foot slightly forward! – Jackal finished, then waited for the detective's move.

Richard, as discretely as he could, slid the foot they agreed on forth, then pulled it back immediately afterwards.

Perry took a deep breath through his nose as he prepared for what might have been the most crucial moment of his life - he was only hoping that the detective wouldn't get cold feet at the wrong time...

– Everyone, listen up! – Jackal seeked the attention of the ADVENT troopers; rather needlessly, to speak the truth, as those have already lined up in front of him and Tornak – I want _all_ of you to back away! I will give you _five seconds_! If you are still around me after that, I will shoot this man! You got it?! – he roared with as much hate and anger he could muster up in himself – Five!

Some of the troopers around them took a few unsure glances at each other, only to be refocused by the soldier who appeared to be their commander: his helmet seemed to have a different shape, and his armour was decorated with red markings, a gilded half-cape thrown over his left shoulder.

Now, this ADVENT 'officer' stepped forward, and pulled a large, magnetic pistol out of the holster that was strapped to his right thigh. As he aimed down the iron sights of the weapon, the high-ranking soldier barked an order to his subordinates, who then all steadied their hands, and tried to get a clean line of sight as Perry's head.

– Four! – Jackal was quick to notice their tactical movement, and now lowered his head behind Tornak's back – I mean it, assholes! Back off, _now_!

As soon as he heard Perry's first word, Richard began to blindly reach for the underside of his captor's coat, slowly tapping along the fabric as his fingers searched for the flash-grenade. He was about to let go of all hope, but then his hand crashed against a bump in the otherwise flat texture of the trench coat.

Stretching his hand further to reach inside, a massive weight fell off of Richard's heart as his fingers ran across the smooth surface of the cylinder-shaped flash-grenade.

Richard then took a few seconds to fumble around for the primary and secondary pull rings of the stun grenade, making sure to keep _at least_ two fingers on the safety lever - after all, he didn't want this thing to detonate in Perry's pocket.

– Three! – Jackal continued, dearly hoping that Tornak wasn't going to screw this up. It was a ridiculous thought, but the future of humanity all depended on this somewhat crazy maneuver they were about to execute.

By this time, Richard let go of the safety lever: his heart was in his throat now, and the hand he used to hold the flashbang was beginning to shake. He tried controlling this by taking deep breaths, but to no avail.

His fingers kept quivering from this fearful anticipation.

"Not long now, Richard!", he kept encouraging himself in his thoughts, "Just hold on for a few more moments!".

– Two! – Jackal gave the signal, and waited for the detective to accomplish the final 'phase' of their plan.

Tornak moved his hands with lightning speed - something he didn't even realized he was capable off - and threw the flashbang directly at the ADVENT officer.

The grenade bounced off of the soldier's helmet - the force of the impact causing him to stumble backwards - then fell on the ground, where it rolled a few centimeters to the left: once there, it stayed motionless and still.

But this wasn't going to last too long.

– Tornak, get down! Now! – Jackal yelled in the detective's ear, turned the pistol away from his head, took multiple shots at the ADVENT officer, then pushed Tornak down on the ground.

His bullets didn't pierce the helmet, but a lucky hit managed to make contact with the soldier's yaw, which, no doubt, penetrated further into his flesh, eventually reaching, then totally destroying, his windpipe.

The officer dropped his pistol and clutched at his own throat in agony, then coughed up some kind of bizarre, orange liquid - this, Jackal knew to be the leader's blood, the byproduct of the extensive genetic-tampering the aliens done to each and every ADVENT soldier on the planet.

Knowing that the officer wasn't going to last long, but the flashbang was about to fill the square with its blinding light any time now, Perry threw himself on the ground as swift as it was humanly possible, covering his eyes with the whole of his right arm.

A short moment later, a deafening ring filled both of their ears, but this was nothing compared to what the ADVENT troopers around them felt: since their eyes weren't protected that well by their helmets, their retinas felt like as if thousands of tiny needles have been stabbed into them - some of the soldiers lost their balance and stumbled to the ground, while the rest of them covered their eyes in panic, dropping their weapons and screaming something in their alien language.

Jackal glanced up, and, seeing that his flashbang successfully stunned all the troopers around them, he let out a sigh of relief, and jumped to his feet.

Once standing upright, Perry helped the detective to his feet, and patted him in the back: – Good job. That's where we need to go – he pointed towards the other side of the square, which ended in a row of connected buildings, and a dark alleyway – Now, run for it!

By the time Jackal's words reached Richard's brain, the former was already at a five meters advantage, his weapon drawn and ready for any other hostiles that might try and cut them off from their escape route.

Unholstering his own pistol as well, Tornak sprinted after Perry, glancing over his own shoulders in every other moment, making sure that their soon-to-be pursuers were still incapacitated.

 _He really didn't wish to die by getting shot in the back._

To his relief, they reached the alleyway significantly faster than he originally expected: however, there seemed to be no visible escape route through here, which made Richard to believe that Perry had no idea about where he was going.

He was about to panic and question the man's decisions, but then he saw as Jackal gestured to him to go and help lift a manhole-cover.

– You got to be kidding me... – Richard groaned as they moved the heavy piece of metal, putting his whole back into it, as he knew what would surely happen if they wasted any time.

– This is the only way out – Jackal clenched his teeth as he threw the cover to the side, then crouched down, and, with his pistol drawn, faced towards the entrance of the alleyway – Go! I'll cover you!

– Do I go left or right? – Richard put his feet on the ladder, and began to descend into the darkness of the borderline-ancient sewers that ran under the city.

– I will tell you once I'm down there! – Jackal's laughter echoed through the tunnel, his words bouncing around the wet, slimy walls.

Once his feet touched the hard concrete of the sewers, Tornak again retrieved the compact flashlight from one of his pockets, and turned it on. In both ways, the brick walls seemed to reach on forever, ending in treacherous darkness in each direction.

Richard walked a few steps away from the ladder, clicked the flashlight onto the lower tactical rail of his Glock 22, and aimed pointed the weapon towards the manhole above him.

A few seconds past, then Tornak saw as a dark shadow slid down on the bars of the ladder, landing on the concrete with a wet _thump_.

– Is that you, Perry? – Richard shone his light at the figure, who was then quick to respond.

– Of course it's me! – Jackal walked over to the detective, and pushed the flashlight to the side – The exit is in that direction – he pointed straight ahead, which, in relation to the ladder, was to the right – Now, let's get out of here before they suffocate us with gas! – he patted Tornak on his right shoulder, and began to sprint into the darkness of the tunnel.

Richard followed not too far behind, illuminating the way with his pistol's flashlight.

 _Outskirts of New London, Western European Ward_

 _1:35, 8th of October, 2034._

 _Kenneth 'Jackal' Perry_

 _Approximately 20 minutes later..._

– Come on, Tornak! – Jackal yelled as he glanced over his shoulder, making sure that the detective was still following behind him. Ahead of them was a faint light; their signal that they were about to reach the end of the tunnel – We're almost there! Just keep running for a little bit more!

Richard behind him didn't respond, but from the volume of his rapid breathing, Perry knew that he was doing his best to keep his distance as minimal as possible.

As the light in front of them grew brighter and brighter, Jackal reached into his pocket, and took out a small, handheld radio.

Pressing the button down on its side, Perry talked into the device: – Firebrand, this is Jackal! Do you copy?

– Loud and clear, Jackal! – a female voice crackled through the radio – What's your status?

– I'm inbound with the package, plus a civilian; we need him to retrieve the data, so he is flying back to HQ with us! – Perry explained – Our ETA is two minutes. We have no hostiles following behind us at this point, but I would expect the worse in no less than three minutes!

– Understood, Jackal – the woman responded – We are touching down in thirty seconds, and will establish a small, temporary perimeter. See you at the rendezvous. Firebrand, out.

Perry laughed merrily in relief, knowing that, in the matter of two minutes, he was finally going to leave this damn city, and with the intelligence he was tasked to acquire, no less. He put the radio back in his pocket, and holstered his P320.

The stars were now clearly visible at the end of the tunnel, their bright glow filling the two running men with a newfound strength and determination. They were going to make it!

As they finally escaped from the darkness of the abandoned sewers, Jackal stopped in his tracks, and waited for Tornak to catch up.

The detective did quite well, and was only two seconds behind Perry: now as the man halted as well, he leaned forward, wheezing as the grasped for as much air his lungs could take in.

– Did we make it? – he inquired in a barely audible way between two heavy breaths, straightening up, only to see his question answered.

Barely twenty meters away from them, a massive aircraft, one which appeared to bear the distinct design features of a VTOL (Vertical Take-Off and Landing), lightly touched down in the middle of a nearby clearing. A handful of armed men ran down its open ramp, and took up defensive positions with military precision around the craft.

– Yes. Yes, we did! – Jackal exclaimed, his voice drunk with joy as he waved for the men guarding the craft.

However, his pleasure soon dissipated into the cold, night air, as a different aircraft, this one dark as the tunnel they just left, passed over their heads. Its jet-boosters lighted up the clearing and the surrounding forest with a sinister red light.

The soldiers guarding the VTOL aircraft began to shout and wave at Jackal and Tornak, signalling them to hurry up and run, while the ADVENT drop-ship behind them delivered a small group of troopers.

– Oh, shit! – Perry swore and raised his weapon – No time to rest anymore, Tornak! – he aimed and shot the P320 three times, one of his bullets hitting the neck of one trooper, reducing the total number of hostiles chasing them down to five – Last run, come on! – he put an arm behind the detective's back, and pushed him ahead, giving him a head start.

The armed men standing around the VTOL aircraft, by this time, began to deploy multiple smoke-grenades, their thrown canisters landing a few meters in front of Tornak and Jackal.

– Run into the smoke! – one of the men shouted with a clearly-recognizable Swedish accent – Get to the Skyranger! We will cover you!

As the two men ran past the grenades, a red fog began to emerge from them, preventing the ADVENT soldiers at their heels from seeing and taking accurate shots at their targets.

This disadvantage apparently made the troopers somewhat annoyed: Jackal heard as their rifles fired, and saw as a few stray magnetic projectiles passed above his head, one of them even hitting the ground less than a meter away from his feet.

To respond to this unfriendly gesture, Tornak pulled out his pistol, and unloaded the weapon's entire magazine by firing blindly into the smoke behind him, taking extreme precautions to make sure that none of his bullets would hit Perry. Once he realized that he ran out of rounds, the detective ejected the empty magazine, and returned to his fastest running speed.

Soon enough, they reached the ramp of the VTOL, were the armed men were already huddled up at the bottom of the craft's ramp, their rifles raised and steadied, all of them ready to fire.

– Make way, men! – a new voice shouted with an accent that Jackal knew very well, but Tornak was unable to recognize.

The soldiers now moved to the sides of the ramp, allowing for the two highly important men to, essentially, jump inside the aircraft.

The first to do as such was Tornak, who, as soon as he set foot inside the hold of the Skyranger, pulled out a fresh magazine from one of his pockets, reloaded his Glock 22, then began to scan the smoke for targets.

Jackal followed behind him, his P320 already held firmly by his right hand, and took up a vigilant position on the right side of the detective.

– Full headcount, everyone is onboard! – the man with the unusual accent shouted – Come on, let's lift off!

– Roger that, Captain! – the female voice, belonging to the pilot of the Skyranger, could be heard from the speakers installed inside the hold – Mind the gap!

The armed men slowly backed up from the ramp, stepping off just as it came into motion, securing everyone inside the craft from further enemy fire. A loud hum could be heard as the engines of the Skyranger came alive, and soon, the people inside felt as their carrier lifted off, and they ascended higher and higher into the air.

Perry suspected that a few magnetic projectiles grazed the outside of the aircraft, however, its armour was sturdy enough to shrug off a few minor shots like magnetic rifle fire. By this time, they were at highly safe distance from their pursuers, and ADVENT's interceptors were too slow to catch up with the Skyranger anyway.

The men inside the craft cheered at their victory and patted each other on the back - a risky mission was now behind them, although their task was nothing compared to what Perry accomplished in the past days. The rescue-team's leader even gave voice to his opinion this.

– You know, the history books will praise you to the heavens for this! – said the man with the odd accent, which Perry knew very well to be his natural, Greek dialect – It's good to have you back with us, Jackal! – he placed a hand on the mentioned person's right shoulder, hitting the side of his arm in gratitude.

Even in the low light of the Skyranger's hold, Perry could easily make out the man's familiar face: the camouflaged bandana tied around his forehead and long, curled brown hair, his authoritive, light-blue eyes shining from his years of experience as a tactical specialist.

– Thanks, Captain! – Perry nodded, then turned towards Tornak, and gestured for him to step over – Sir, this is Richard Tornak. Despite his initial uncooperative attitude, he turned out to be a highly valuable asset – Jackal reached under his coat, and handed over the ADVENT datapad to the Captain – Also, he managed to accidentally assign his genetic profile to this thing, meaning we cannot retrieve the data we need without him.

– I see... – frowned the team-leader, but, despite his apparently negative attitude, Perry knew that, deep inside, he was extremely grateful for both the datapad, and Richard's presence as the key to its decryption.

– Tornak, this is Captain Eniklitos Perenekhos – Jackal gestured towards the Greek man, who then extended a hand, which Richard then shook – He used to be an operative of Taskforce 48 before the invasion... And now he is its commander.

– Call me 'Galatas' – the Captain said in a sympathetic manner, then pointed at the datapad in his hand – The information you assisted us in acquiring is _crucial_ for our organization to accomplish its task - we thank you for your assistance.

– With all due respect, Captain, you can thank me by explaining what exactly is going on here – Richard crossed his arms, and sat down on a nearby passenger seat.

– You will have all your questions answered once we arrive at our HQ. Until then, I would suggest you rest, as you've been through quite an ordeal – said Perenekhos, then, in a somewhat ceremonial voice, added: – However, I hope you know that you crossed the Rubicon, and there is not turning back for you now!

The other soldiers compassionately laughed at this, leaving Richard even more confused about the Captain's words.

– What is that supposed to mean? – he questioned, glancing from man to man in the hold, searching for an explanation.

– ADVENT will not look at you as one of their citizens from now on, they will think of you as a supporter of the Resistance; which means that joining our cause is pretty much the only available option you have! – the Captain put his hand on the ex-detective's left shoulder, and declared: – Mr. Tornak, welcome to XCOM!

And as the Skyranger glided across the night sky, Jackal knew that their actions from tonight will shape to future of the world greatly: from now on, it was only just a matter of time...


	5. Epilogue

Epilogue

 _ADVENT Central District, Boston, East American Ward_

 _21:37, 28th of February, 2035._

 _Central_

 _Approximately 4 months later..._

The celebration of Unification Day always turned the usually quiet streets of any city-center into a community-event bustling with people, all excited for the annual speech of the aliens' human representative known as 'The Speaker'.

So much preparation for one live propaganda-show... Central thought this to be a massive waste of resources, even by ADVENT's standards. But then again, you can never spend too much when you control the entire world...

As the aged man now joined a line of non-suspecting and excited citizens, he heard the voice of Kelly through his earpiece.

– You were right. They definitely got their hands full today! – said the woman, who, despite her Irish cultural heritage, spoke with a clearly American accent.

– Stay focused – Central muttered quietly, raising a fist in front of his mouth, pretending to be coughing. When he was sure that no one was eavesdropping on him from the crowd, he continued – Prep Gatecrasher. Sixty seconds.

They have preparing for this 'Operation Gatecrasher' for months, and now, Central believed that they were ready for it.

The ADVENT datapad that Jackal retrieved with the help of a rebellious citizen contained the intelligence they required all along: the exact location of XCOM's old commander - the one whom the aliens captured and imprisoned soon after they began their invasion twenty long years ago.

And now, after months of detailed planning, Central and the rest of XCOM's senior staff managed to come up with a risky, but accomplishable plan: by creating a distraction on the night of the Unification's celebration, the bulk of ADVENT's forces would be too preoccupied with the protection of the thousands of civilians, leaving the facility where they were holding XCOM's commander relatively unguarded. And that was when the squad codenamed 'Gatecrasher' would strike: they would infiltrate the facility, and extract the Commander, who would then be flown back to the Avenger for immediate medical attention.

All things considered, the potential risks of such a daring rescue were worth it - after all, without their commander, XCOM would remain too powerless to fight the aliens and ADVENT.

As the checkpoint's queu kept advancing in front of him, Central eventually reached the ADVENT trooper standing guard next to the security-gate; as he gestured with his rifle, Central faked a smile and walked forward.

He froze as soon as the gate gave out a sound of alarm, painting the nearby area with its warning, red light: this caught the attention of all nearby soldiers, who now approached Central with their weapons raised, speaking between each other in their alien language.

Their superior officer saw this irregularity, walked over, and demanded from Central: – Mor balaten.

Despite the man knowing that the ADVENT goon was asking for an identification from him, Central stayed quiet, and pretended to not understand the instructions he was given. To solve this problem, the officer simply punched him in the stomach with his rifle's butt.

Central let out a painful groan as he collapsed on the ground, barely able to kneel as a nausiating feeling washed over him.

– Mor balaten! – the officer repeated himself, but, once again, received no answer from Central.

He took a few moments to recover from this pain, seeing from the corner of his eyes as Kelly sneaked past the security cordon, and was now getting ready to arm the X4 explosive charges at a nearby ADVENT truck.

Glancing up with the flames of pure hatred burning in his eyes, Central slowly stood up, and, as he leaned closer to the ADVENT officer, spoke into the microphone attached to his shirt's collar: – Now!

The soldier in front of him cocked his head to the side questioningly, but the realization of what was actually happening hit him too late: the X4 charges detonated only a few meters behind him, and the wave of the explosion knocked him and the other troopers off of their feet, stunning them for a few seconds as they now fell to the ground.

Central stood up, drew his pistol, and proceeded to quickly shoot each one of them in the back of their skulls, killing them instantly as his bullets severed their spinal cords.

Now, the next step: retrieve his rifle from a nearby Resistance-stash, then proceed to the rendezvous point where he would meet up with Kelly, and the rest of Gatecrasher squad.

The aged man, for the first time in many years, smiled as he saw the Skyranger fly overhead, beginning its descent near the facility where ADVENT kept the Commander. Soon, he would be freed, and will be able to take back the command over XCOM.

Central reloaded his pistol, and started to run towards the stash containing his rifle. And as he kept sprinting past the panicking citizens, there was only one thought that kept repeating itself inside his head.

 _The revolution has began. XCOM is back._


End file.
